Losing My Mind, Losing You
by EternalUnchainedMelody
Summary: Sequel to Obsession. Three sides of a battle. Three legends in a world of mortals. Two men willing to throw away everything for a mad obsession and one man determined to stop them. Featuring Triple H, the Undertaker and Shawn Michaels. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Losing My Mind, Losing You

**Author:** TheVampireLucinda

**Featuring:** Triple H, the Undertaker, Shawn Michaels

**Disclaimer: **Rated T for language and (projected) violence. The Musi are totally running this one, in conjunction with Monday Night Raw...So...We'll see where this goes. But anything is possible, and I'll up the rating if it gets out of hand, haha.

**Summary:** Sequel to **Obsession**. Three sides of a battle. Three legends in a world of mortals. Two men willing to throw away everything for a mad obsession and one man determined to stop them.

_A/N: Raw is killing me...It's basically writing itself...Props to Triple H, the Undertaker and Shawn Michaels for really, really making the show worth watching again! Of course...that means that now I have to keep up again...Oh, and please read **Obsession** first, for some background thoughts, if you've got a minute. _

_TVL: (raging at her three Musi) Dammit, **Obsession** was supposed to be a one-shot! One and done! You can't keep on... (turns to ShawnMuse) You can't just show up on Raw, and jump in the mix, and make this...! (turns to TakerMuse) And you! You...you... (eyes tear up, turns to HunterMuse) You're killing me too! Please, you guys can't..._

_ShawnMuse: It has to happen this way, L. (HunterMuse and TakerMuse nod)_

_TVL: But...I...I'm worried that..._

_HunterMuse: Don't be afraid, kid. We'll handle this one._

_TVL: Is this...is this...like, a sequel to **To Be Loved** or something?_

_TakerMuse: Well, I wouldn't quite call it that. (small smile) You'll see. Just come along for the ride, Girl. _

_ShawnMuse: We promise, it'll be worth it. You've gotta trust us this time._

_TVL: (concerned) I'll do my best..._

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><p>The Undertaker sat in his large chair as he watched the images flash across the wall in front of him, green eyes narrow and focused.<p>

The tape, playing at different speeds on two different, old-fashioned movie projectors, was actually a recent one. On it was Triple H's response to the Deadman's challenge for a Wrestlemania rematch. A chance for one of them to final lay their blood-feud—or, perhaps, the other man—to rest once and for all.

And the Game had said no.

Rejected him completely.

Since receiving the response, the Undertaker had sat, motionless, listening to it over and over until he could hear Triple H's voice in his head when he slept.

Now, however, he stood up, slowly, silently, as his rage at last overcame his control, and the images and voice seemed to sink into his soul and tear him apart from the inside out.

No, Hunter explained to the world, he would not accept the challenge because he felt _bad_ for the Undertaker.

"I looked the Undertaker in the eyes...and what I was...was sorry."

The Undertaker made his way over to one of the largest pictures on his picture-covered wall. Ever-so-carefully, he reached out and touched the image, almost loving letting his fingers glide down its smooth, glossy surface.

'Vengeance,' his mind screamed at him, as it did every single day after that fateful match against the Game. 'Vengeance!'

_This is not over._

He looked down at the tray in front of him, a tray positioned right below one of the many enlarged photos of Triple H. Almost reverently, he took off his wide-brimmed hat and set it down, next to an ominous looking jar of sharp implements.

But reverence was the furthest thing from his mind.

Again, moving carefully as if he had not moved for many days, the Undertaker reached down, and this time his hands found an old straight razor that he opened as lovingly as he had touched the photo. The cold blade felt almost soothing against his fingers as he tested its sharpness against his own cool skin.

'Vengeance.'

_Vengeance_.

"I will get what I want," he whispered aloud to himself, lifting the razor to his long, flowing black hair. The images continued to play on the screen, the voice continued to explain why he couldn't face the Undertaker again.

Suddenly, violently, erratically, he began to cut. Long strands, as many as could fit into his closed fist at once, began to fall at the Undertaker's feet. He pulled hard, straightening the lines so that he could cut clear across several strands at once.

"Keep your pity."

He continued to cut, his long hair now less than half its original length. The dark strands continued to pile up on the floor, but the Undertaker paid them no heed. When pressed, long ago, he had admitted to loving his hair; long ago, when he had cut it short, it had been for a very personal and painful reason.

Back then, he had been trying to embrace his own humanity; now, however, he certain that the last breath in his body that was human had been breathed out long ago.

And, in all honesty, the Undertaker didn't care. Not at this point. Not now, when there was something far more important and meaningful than hair or humanity on the line.

"Give me what's mine."

In the back of his mind, he knew that those he loved, that those around him, hell, even the fans would wonder what he was doing. And, in fact, he had even taken a moment to try and ask _himself_ what the fuck he was doing.

Just how much was this thirst, this desire for revenge going to cost him?

The Undertaker turned his head to the left, to better reach his hair in the back, and came face-to-face with another image of Triple H. More of his hair fell to the floor, and he began to cut faster and harder, coming mere inches from slicing his own skin.

But he didn't care about all that, not really.

His rage had long ago taken over; his insatiable longing for the chance...just the _chance_ of regaining his lost pride.

'No, it's more than pride,' he told himself, surprised to hear such clarity in his nearly-feverish mind. 'This is about something deeper than that, something much more substantial, and much, much more real...'

The hand holding the old straight razor stopped suddenly. Slowly, the Undertaker looked up.

There was no mirror.

He could not see himself.

And, so he thought in that moment, he may not have liked what he saw. The hair he could not care less about; it was the look, he knew, that resided in his green eyes. Eyes that had always been cold were without a doubt now burning with something akin to madness.

Out of the corner of those same eyes he could see both the ever-playing video, and the pile of hair on the floor.

What else was he going to lose before all of this was over?

_What in the hell am I trying to gain?_

As though the answer was obvious, a single word appeared in the Undertaker's mind, forever attaching itself to other word that dominated his thoughts.

Yes, this was about vengeance, but to what goal? To what end? The answer was startling clear, and, though there indeed was no mirror, the Undertaker could see himself smile.

"Immortality."

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><p><em>Gah, I hate writing serious fics! <em>

_Well, let me know if you like it. Another chapter tomorrow! Can you believe I've written about 3 chapters already, just from that one segment on RAW?_

_Oh, and, review?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! The Muses enjoy the praise...as do I. ;)_

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><p>Shawn Michaels had watched, silently, as what he knew would be a tragedy play out between the Undertaker and Triple H.<p>

He had been silent, that is, until his best friend had refused the challenge thrown down by the man that had retired him.

"WHAT?" Shawn yelled, jumping to his feet in front of his TV, dropping the food he had been eating to the ground. "What are you _doing_?"

It was almost funny to the Heartbreak Kid, in that moment, how quickly that old would re-opened; how easily his past anger for what had happened rose to the surface and threatened to bury him alive.

'Wait, you know Hunter better than that,' he reasoned with himself, taking a deep breath. 'He's the Game. He's Triple H, the Cerebral Assassin. He's playing with the Undertaker, and you're letting yourself get played too.'

A small smile came to Shawn lips as he reconsidered. Yes, he decided, Hunter was just baiting the Deadman, to get him at his best so that he at last put away the man who put away Shawn Michaels at _his_ best.

Still, an uneasy feeling remained with Shawn, even as he began to clean up the small mess in front of him. Even though he and Triple H were closer than brothers, there were times when, he knew, they were hard to read, even to each other.

After all, the current COO of the WWE had seemed completely serious when he said "No" to the Undertaker's challenge...Perhaps he really meant it.

But _why_?

Why would _anyone_ refuse the chance to look the Deadman in the eye and end him?

Again feeling the initial rumblings of anger, Shawn clenched his fists. A part of him felt bad for doubting his friend...But another part of him wondered if his doubts were not baseless and unfounded.

Had Triple H really changed so drastically in such a short amount of time?

Last year, the man had been willing to _die_ to avenge his best friend. And even though Shawn doubted him then, the Game made good on his promise. He had almost beaten the life out of the Undertaker.

But now? No? Saying no to an opportunity to finish what he, Triple H, started last year, and to end what he, Shawn Michaels, had started four years before?

"I hope you have a darn good reason, my friend," Shawn said softly to himself, throwing his spilled food away. "I trust you, buddy...But I know you, too."

Reaching into his pocket, the Heartbreak Kid pulled out his cellphone. He punched in several numbers and waited.

"Hello, John Laurinaitis? Yes, this is Shawn. I was wondering..."

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><p><em>Short chapter; next is coming right away.<em>

_Review?_


	3. Chapter 3

_And now we finally get to the actual RAW segment...Which was excellent, by the way.  
><em>

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><p>"Shawn, this isn't the suit talking. It's <em>me<em> talking."

Triple H stood in the ring across from his best friend, and found himself saying one of the hardest things he's ever had to say in his life.

Shawn had called him out, in front of everyone, in front of the world, expecting him to accept the Undertaker's challenge, no doubt to great fanfare and excitement.

But things had changed since the last time they shared a ring together.

"Shawn, you saw what happened last year," the COO of the WWE explained slowly, as though trying to convince even himself. "I beat the Undertaker down, he couldn't leave the ring of his own power...He won the battle, but _I _won the war." He took a deep breath. "I know what I have to do to beat him, Shawn...I have to _end him_.

"And I...I'm not willing to do that, Shawn."

The look of hurt and confusion that crossed his best friend's face at that moment almost caused Hunter to stumble over his next words, words even he couldn't believe he was uttering.

"I'm not that guy anymore."

Shawn Michaels nearly exploded.

"You're not that guy? You're not that guy? That's exactly who you are! That's what you do! You _finish_ people! You're a closer! You end careers; you step on people's throats! You have no mercy, you have no compassion...That's what makes you the Game!"

Shawn took a deep breath, voice becoming softer when he at last noticed the conflicted look on his friend's face, somehow a cross between a frown and a smile.

"C'mon. What do you mean that's not who you are anymore?" He pointed at the suit, the suit he knew that Hunter was so uncomfortable in, and the tie that he knew that man would rather wear around his head than around his neck.

Or, perhaps around someone _else's_ neck, if he happened to be choking them with it.

"Is this who you are now? I've stood by you through everything. When things began to 'change,' people said a lot of things, but I stayed by your side...Are you trying to tell me that you're now one of _them_?"

Hunter looked away from Shawn, couldn't stand looking him in the eye anymore. He could see the words in Shawn's face, could hear it in the man's voice before he even spoke.

"I'm not a sellout, Shawn. I'm...protecting an investment."

The words sounded hollow in Hunter's own ears, and he knew that Shawn could see right through them anyway.

"Look, I don't know about all the philosophical underpinnings of all of your corporate decisions...But there's one thing I do know." And now he was in Triple H's face again, forcing the younger man to look him in the eye. "I know that when a man challenges you, and you back down, that makes you a _coward_."

Feeling anger rise in his chest, Hunter turned to go before he did something that he knew he'd regret later.

However, he didn't get far, because Shawn grabbed him by the arm, forcing him back, forcing him to look at the now-retired Heartbreak Kid.

And probably the only man in the world who could get away with doing that without losing a few pints of blood in the process.

"You get back here!" Shawn yelled, his anger again overcoming his good sense. "I'm not finished with you yet! I don't care how nice you dress it up, how much money you wrap around it! At the end of the day, a coward is still a coward!"

Triple H stared at Shawn for a long moment, forcing himself to breathe. There was a lot at stake here...Not just the business...But Shawn couldn't, wouldn't see that, because, Hunter knew, that Shawn was blinded again by his own need for revenge.

Didn't he understand that the Game's need was no less great?

With a silent sigh, Hunter turned to go again.

This time, Shawn didn't grab him.

"Walk away," the Heartbreak Kid taunted, voice hard. "Walk away, because that's what a coward does."

Finally, Triple H lost control of his emotions. Though he had made it out of the ring and on to the apron, he turned on his heel, climbed back in, and got in Shawn Michaels face.

"No, you don't understand what's going on here!" he yelled, not holding back his feelings, damn the crowd and everyone watching. "You can't! You sit there, not a care in the world...But, me? I've got responsibilities Shawn. Real life responsibilities! I don't give a damn if you, or anyone else likes it! One day, all of this..." And now he indicate the arena. "All of this is going to be mine, and it's my responsibility, and that weighs on my shoulders like a ton even now!"

Though there was a flash of sympathy in Shawn's face at that, Hunter continued, unable to stop his diatribe now that he had gotten started.

"You look at the Undertaker and see an opponent, and I used to look at him like that too! He was someone to go through...But now, now he's an investment. I can't look at him as an opponent anymore, Shawn, I can't!"

Though his voice had become desperate, he continued, trying his best to ignore the look Shawn was giving him. It was painful to say it; he knew it had to be painful for Shawn to hear it.

"The Undertaker is a brand; a brand that's good for business! And I can't let that brand end because that's _bad_ for business!"

The Game inhaled deeply. There. He said it. It was out in the open. Damn the consequences, he was going to let Shawn, and the Undertaker, and anyone else who was watching know how he felt. How the time since he had become COO had been hell for him, how the time without Shawn had been hell for him.

How he knew that, without the Undertaker there, it would be even worse for him.

They were the only ones left.

"You...Me...The Undertaker... Shawn, We're the end of an era. You know it, and I know it. The end of an era, of a different breed. A smash-mouth style that doesn't even exist anymore; we left it all in this ring every night. We would all pay the ultimate sacrifice in the ring, without question...

"Shawn, I am _not_ going to be the one to end that era. You're retired, I've got...other things going on now. The Undertaker is all that's left. And I'll be _damned_ if I'm going to be the one to end that era...For no reason! Not because they want me to, not because _he_ wants me to end it; I'm not going to do it to feed my own ego, and I'm sure as hell not going to do it to feed your ego because you want to live vicariously through me to get done the things you couldn't get done!"

And there it was.

That was all of it, as far as Hunter was concerned. The three of them...They were all out of their minds for the past few years, the three of them threatening one another, the last of their kind. They were going to make their own breed extinct, and by their own goddamn hands.

But not anymore. Not this year. Hunter was done dancing that dance, and he didn't give a damn if Shawn and the Undertaker were still raving mad with whatever fever burned in this minds before. He wasn't going to be the one to pull the trigger; he wasn't going to be the last man standing out of all of this.

Vengeance, he knew well, was sweet.

But the price was so very, very high.

Shawn had wanted it, and lost his career, and nearly lost his best friend. The Undertaker met Hunter's desire for it and nearly lost his life...and his mind, it seemed. Now the Deadman had a taste for it, and he made it clear that he'd do damn near anything to get his revenge. Inside, Hunter shuddered to think of what the Undertaker would do if he continued to deny him.

But he, Triple H, was determined to end the cycle. There were some things that he wasn't willing to lose for revenge.

One of which was standing right in front of him now.

Having spent his rage, Hunter turned to go. But Shawn grabbed his arm again, this time so hard that he could feel a bruise forming on his skin. The Heartbreak Kid pulled him back so forcefully that Triple H's jacked slipped off his left shoulder.

With a cold smile, Shawn adjusted it back.

"That's an awesome speech," he said mockingly, voice rough with anger and the beginnings of sorrow. "And I'm sure that works for a lot of people. And I like the always consistent little jab at me." His smile widened. "But here's the thing: I'm at peace where I'm at in my life. You, however, have no peace. So I'm going to just cut to the chase: I want you to look me in the eye, and tell me you don't want to end the Streak! I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you don't want to end the Undertaker! Look me in the eye and tell me you don't _need_ it! Look me in the eye and _tell me you don't want it_!

"I want you to look me in the eye and tell me _no_."

Hunter's eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring as he found himself breathing heavily.

'God, I thought I was past all this,' he thought adjusting his tie nervously. Though he had meant every word of what he had said, Shawn had, as always, hit a nerve.

He wasn't at peace.

Hunter turned away from Shawn, just wanting to get the hell out of the ring, out of the arena, out of the city...

But Shawn would not let him. For the third or fourth time that night, he grabbed the bigger man's arm, pulling on his jacket and forcing him back, forcing him to face the madness that lurked in all of their hearts.

"Look me in the eye!" Shawn Michaels screamed, unrelenting even as the Game slipped out of his suit jacket. In response, Shawn merely put down the microphone and unzipped his vest. He had decided before he even arrived in town that if the two of them had to come to blows, so be it.

Nearly snarling, Triple H got right in the Heartbreak Kid's face, square with his best friend's piercing blue eyes. Clearly shaken, but standing by his belief that the madness had to end, he said only one word.

"No."

Shawn gave him a disappointed look. He looked his best friend up and down once, as though gauging whether or not this was the same man who had been willing, just a year ago, to nearly kill the Undertaker for him.

Hunter was silent as Shawn walked past him, as the always-surprisingly strong smaller man bumped his should as he left the ring.

He'd take the insult. He'd take the verbal, even the physical abuse he knew that Shawn and the Undertaker were capable of dishing out. Hell, he was even willing to deal with the mind games that came along with dealing with those two when they were in one of their moods.

As far as he was concerned, the events of the past few years were bigger than all of three of them. He'd given in last year to the madness; he wasn't going to let the Undertaker and Shawn drag him into it again. He had vowed, after that match, to be the responsible guardian of the WWE that he was supposed to be..._especially_ with Shawn gone.

Taker and Shawn had nearly ended each other; eventually, the Undertaker did end Shawn. Now Shawn wanted him, Triple H, to end the Undertaker.

It was never going to end, he decided long ago, unless _he_ put an end to it.

And Hunter vowed in his heart to stand by his convictions.

Waiting a moment, until he knew that Shawn was well on his way outside, Hunter started to leave the ring, hoping that one day, the two older men, the last of their kind, would understand the wisdom of his decision.

And then the gong sounded.

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><p><em>(wink) I admit, I wanted the summary for the story to be a bit ambiguous, and this is why. Hunter is actually the one trying to stop Shawn Michaels and the Undertaker from being about the end of an era because of this own selfish desires...Not that Hunter isn't being selfish too here in this story...<em>

_I have no idea where this is going to go...But, as it stands, my Muses are working double time, so I'm as in the dark as everyone else._

_I hope it ends okay for everyone... (looks sadly at TakerMuse)_

_Review?_


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the delay...I've had a cold since Sunday! Why is it that, when I write, I catch a cold? Haha, anyway, next two parts coming your way. I am absolutely loving how this is playing out on Raw! This sections, however, is based on an Undertaker promo that I think aired at the Elimination Chamber PPV...Anyway, enjoy!_

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><p>Vengeance.<p>

_Vengeance_.

Another scene, a much newer scene, now played over and over in the Deadman's focused, feverish mind. A single sentence, ever-echoing in his thoughts and threatening to drive him beyond the edges of madness:

"He won the battle; I won the war. Sorry, but I'm not facing the Undertaker at Wrestlemania."

_Vengeance_.

He had heard the Game's reasons for denying him, for refusing to give him a chance to take back what was rightfully his. Apparently, the COO of the WWE thought of him as a "brand." As something that was "good for business." As the last man standing from a long-dead Era.

Though the absurdity of it all nearly made the Undertaker laugh.

Who the _hell_ did Hunter think he was?

"Your denials are unacceptable. Triple H, your fate is sealed."

_Vengeance_!

The time for talk was over. The hope of immortality buried along with the last remnants of a vicious, fighting spirit.

All that remained for the Undertaker was a cold desire for _certainty_. In his heart, he knew truly that he had lost the war. He knew it, Triple H knew it, and everyone watching the match knew it.

Now, though, he had to _know_. If the Streak, his career, his life was reaching its end, he wanted to reach that end in a blaze of glory.

'But before that happens, I have to know if I deserve to be here in the first place.'

And, really, that truly was the only question left.

The light of a few small candles cast shadows around the Undertaker as he considered things. The past year had been hell because of that match. A hell of uncertainty and doubt. If Triple H had beaten him so soundly...If he had gotten to the point where he had to be carried out of the ring...All of his years of costly victories, and even the Streak were thrown into question.

He had thought himself invincible, but suffered under that delusion no longer.

He had thought his place as one of the greatest wrestlers of all time secure, but now...

For the Hunter, however, there was something very similar at stake, the Undertaker realized suddenly, the thought shattering through the clouds of his mind like a ray of sunlight. Or, more appropriately, an ominous bolt of deadly lightening.

He now knew how to force Hunter's hand...

Because there was something that would haunt Triple H for the rest of his career too, possibly for the rest of his life. There would always be that _one question_, lingering there like an Angel of Death, shining with fiery radiance and the promise of blood. That something had been with him from the beginning, and that same something would be there at the end.

'No, not some_thing_, the Deadman mentally corrected, a small, sadistic smile coming unbidden to his hood-shrouded face. 'Some_one_.'

"Every story has an ending. I will write yours...tomorrow."

_Vengeance_.


	5. Chapter 5

_And now, the Raw segment...As someone pointed out, although Shawn wasn't there this week, he might as well had been with how much he was being mentioned! ShawnMuse is so smug right now...haha._

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><p>"I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to be the one who finishes it."<p>

Hunter found himself repeating almost the exact same words he had delivered to Shawn last week, although this time he stood not in front of his best friend, but in front of the man who had challenged him in the first place.

The ever-dangerous Undertaker.

And though he had tried to explain himself, yet again, he could see the fires growing in the Deadman's green eyes, much like they had in Shawn's blue ones a week before. He had laid out his reasoning as best he could, and he had determined that that was _all_ that he was going to do.

Let the Undertaker—and Shawn!—insult him. Let them call him a suit and tie. A sellout. He didn't give a flying fuck what those two felt because they were still caught up in an unending cycle of revenge and madness. Hell, he'd take all their insults, their tirades, their insane demands, because he had long ago decided his course of action.

What was at stake, he determined, was bigger than the three of them.

Which is why, after explaining himself to the Undertaker, Triple H turned to leave the ring. And even though a part of his heart was heavy (as Shawn had so easily discerned), his mind was, at least, at peace.

The madness was going to end with him. He was not going to be the one to destroy the Era.

"Hey, Businessman."

Triple H continued walking, continued climbing out of the ring. He could not..._would_ not be goaded into fighting a match that he knew was bad for everyone.

But the Undertaker was relentless. "You know, you can put whatever spin you want on this, but at the end of the day, when you look at yourself in the mirror, all you're gonna see is a _coward_."

Those words, so very much like Shawn's, cut Hunter deeply.

More deeply than he had anticipated, apparently, because before he could stop himself, he was climbing back into the ring. Pacing like a caged tiger, he circled the Undertaker, brown eyes narrowing dangerously. After several moments, he ended up right back where he started:

Face-to-face with the Deadman.

"I am sick to _death_ of this coward thing! You want a coward?" he yelled, barely holding back the rage that had been building behind his heart.

But Hunter knew this game. Hell, he was pretty sure that he had a part in creating the game.

Exercising the limits of his self control, he inhaled deeply, and even managed to smile at the Undertaker after a long moment, locking eyes with that cold green glare.

"I see what you're trying to do," Hunter declared, still smiling, though the hurt remained. "It's not going to work. I'm sorry, but the answer is no."

He left the Undertaker alone in the ring.

Strong in his initial convictions, knowing that what he did was unpopular, understanding that he'd be branded a coward by the other guys for the rest of his time in the WWE, Hunter left the ring.

The madness was going to end tonight.

In fact, he had made it all the way up the ramp, and had nearly exited the stage when the Undertaker deep voice came creeping across the arena, flowing easily and painfully into Hunter's ears:

"You know Hunter, I think I just figured it out."

Triple H froze at the end of the ramp. Something in the Undertaker's voice just now...

"You know that you can't do what your buddy Shawn Michaels couldn't do."

Hunter remained on the ramp, completely still, head down, face hidden in the shadows of the arena. A million thoughts swirled in his head, a million replies...and a million ways to make the Undertaker pay for his comment just now.

'Don't listen to him,' he begged himself, commanded himself. 'It has to end...I have to put a stop to-'

"Because you know that Shawn was _always_ better than you."

Almost as if on its own, Hunter's head snapped up.

All of it...The doubts over the years...The pain he had endured...The insults, the soul-searching...the wondering, the questioning, the..._uncertainty_...

With just a single sentence, the Undertaker had brought back all of it.

Not only brought them back; he resurrected them and flung the rotten remains right into Triple H's face.

In an instant, Hunter's iron-clad resolve snapped like a brittle bone between strong, merciless fingers.

Ripping off his jacket and tie, Triple H rushed down the ramp, back into the ring, and into the Undertaker's face, nearly choking on his own rage the entire time.

"You think this has anything to do with Shawn and who's better?" he hissed, almost unable to breathe through his anger. "It has _nothing_ to do with it!" As last week, Hunter's emotions were spilling over the wall of his control, and, once again, he couldn't seem to make it _stop_.

"Shawn couldn't get the job done! I know damn well that I can! I can do what Shawn couldn't do! I can finish it! I know it; you know it!"

The Undertaker looked at the Game steadily, his hooded eyes revealing nothing of what he felt. The shadows that surrounded him seemed to dance in the eerie purple glow, and if one looked closely, the subtle light of triumph had made its way into his face.

But none of that mattered to Hunter now. The Deadman had touched a part of the Cerebral Assassin's soul that should never be touched.

"You think that this suit and tie cover up layers of who I am? Well, all of those layers are _gone_!" He moved closer to the Undertaker, their noses nearly touching, their eyes locked in a too-familiar stare. "I'm standin' before you, and I'm looking you in the eye, and I am more certain than I've ever been want this? You want Wrestlemania? You want an end?

"You got it."

Triple H turned on his heel to leave, but as he reached the ropes, another thought struck him suddenly. Empty was his mind of thoughts of preservation, and even vengeance.

No, the Undertaker had gone far, far beyond all of that now.

"But there's one thing: If we do this, we go all the way. No return. No uncertainty. No excuses. The Streak ends, the Era ends, you get your End...We do this, we go all the way. I will face you at Wrestlemania under one condition:

"Hell in a Cell!"

Hunter was smoldering as he stood there, face-to-face, eye-to-eye with the Undertaker. He had accepted the challenge; he had laid down one of his own; the two of them were going to meet, and this whole goddamn mess was going to be settled once and for all.

Yes, he stood there, simmering in his rage and the resurgence of old pain and doubts, staring hard at the expressionless man who had caused it all.

Except...the Undertaker wasn't so expressionless now. In fact, a small smile had made its way to the Deadman's face, as he reached over and gave Hunter a quick pat on the shoulder.

Just as Hunter had done to him a few weeks ago.

Triple H felt his heart drop as the Undertaker climbed out of the ring.

'God help me, what have I done?'

He had known beforehand what the Deadman had been trying to do...So how the fuck did he fall into his trap?

Now a doubt of a different sort plagued the Game's thoughts as he watched the Undertaker make his way up the ramp. The anger remained—and he knew it would not cool until he had beaten the Undertaker to a bloody pulp for his words—but that old fear had come back as well, and it made Hunter's rage all the more potent, all the more unfocused and violent.

A rage and fear that grew even greater when the Undertaker turned back to look at him, that ghost of a smile still smugly resting on his face.

Whether he wanted it or not, Hunter knew now that he had been conscripted as the Warrior of the Apocalypse. Against everything he wanted, against everything he willed, at Wrestlemania 28, it was going to be the end of an era.

And he, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, was going to be the cause of it all.

* * *

><p><em>This can only end in heartbreak...Even though it's awesome, I have such a bad feeling about this...Will I lose my last two originals? Guess I'll have to wait and see...<em>

_Review? :)_


	6. Chapter 6

Goddamn, it hurt to watch that footage again.

Hunter stared hard at the TitanTron, brown eyes locked forward even as the damning video footage ended. He could _feel_ Shawn right next to him, could _feel_ his best friend of 17 years looking at him, staring at him.

Triple H knew exactly what Shawn Michaels was thinking, and it was eating him up on the inside. The Heartbreak Kid has been pushing the Game's buttons all night, his words a perfectly blended concoction of humor and insult. But that was how Shawn did things when he was mad...

'No, Shawn's not mad,' Hunter thought as his gaze lowered to the floor. 'He's pissed as hell.' He could all but feel the heat coming from his best friend's smaller frame, could all but here the thoughts running through Shawn's gold-crowned head.

Hunter honestly wasn't sure what he'd do if Shawn said the words he knew the man was thinking.

Taking a moment to compose himself, he inhaled deeply before lifting the mic to his lips and turning to face Shawn's condemning glare.

"Shawn-"

"So!" HBK interrupted, blue eyes glinting like cold steel, voice laced with sarcasm. "_That's_ all it took. The worst thing that anyone could say to you...is that I am better than you."

Hunter blinked once, literally stepping away from Shawn before he did something that he'd later regret. As before, he struggled to gather his thoughts; the words he so desperately needed to say failed to arrange themselves the way he wanted.

After all, what _could_ he say?

"It has nothing to do with that Shawn." Triple H explained, voice subdued and oddly quiet considering the circumstances. "I know you've heard, I know you've got my voice-mail, but if you want me to do this in front of the whole world, I will." He inhaled once again, trying to steady himself. "Its got nothing to do with whether you're better than me, or I'm better than you, or anything like that..."

Hunter's brown eyes narrowed further as he came face-to-face with his best friend, standing eye-to-eye with Shawn Michaels. He made a decision in that moment, and, as before, damn all the consequence.

He was going to tell him the truth.

"I'm _tired_, Shawn. I'm tired of it, of _listening_ to it. Do you understand me? I'm _tired_ of listening to people like the Undertaker talk behind your back, saying that you couldn't get the job done. I am _tired_ of people talking behind your back saying you're a failure. I am _tired_ of people saying that, on the way out, you couldn't do it because you were never as good as you thought you were in the first place."

Shawn flinched visibly at that, but Triple H was determined to continue. Dammit, Shawn had come out here wanting an answer, wanting the truth, and he was going to get it, whether he liked it or not.

Though the truth...It hurt Hunter just as much.

"That eats me up, Shawn," he said pleadingly, lifting a hand to his own heart, an involuntary indication of the location of his pain. "Because I'm your best friend, Shawn, and I'm also the guy who believes with every fiber of his being that _you_ are the greatest in-ring performer of all time!"

"So," he continued, taking yet another step closer to the steely-eyed Heartbreak Kid, locking stares fully. "It _kills_ me, it pains me beyond measure to look at you...as a...as a loser."

At that, Shawn turned his face away, expression softening. He could no longer look his best friend in the eye, stung by the harsh, the sharp-edged truth of his words.

Because, in the end, no matter what he had done, he had _lost_.

Hunter was talking about it killing him, but for Shawn, it was like even worse than being dead.

"That's why I'm going to do it Shawn. That's why I'm going to finish it." Triple H was determined to make his case, to plead his cause before his dearest friend. Even if no one else understood, Shawn _had_ to understand.

'_Because in the end...The reason for it all...In the end, it's all for..._'

"I am going to end the Undertaker, I am going to end the Streak, I am going to end an Era! I am going to do what everyone runs their mouth saying that you couldn't do."

Shawn didn't flinch this time, and Hunter took that as a sign that he could continue, a good omen that Shawn was following his logic this time.

"I'm going to do it for me," he concluded earnestly, trying his best to convey his feelings to Shawn, to show the man just how much this all meant to him."But just as much, Buddy...I'm going to do it for _you_."

Having at last gotten that off his chest, Hunter felt a great weight lift from his strong shoulders. It was out there; the truth was out there. He had tried to defeat the Undertaker last year, was going to _end_ the Undertaker this year, because of the Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels.

Not to prove to everyone who was better out of the three men, not to eliminate the only real competition he had left...not even to calm his own fears and doubts, although Heaven knows that played a part.

No... At the heart of it all, Hunter was doing it for Shawn. To put an end to the man who caused him to lose his best friend, and to give the person who meant so very much to him for so long back what he had lost two years ago.

'_I'm doing it for you._'

Though Hunter felt free, almost _relieved_ at his confession, the look in Shawn's eyes gave him pause. HBK's blue eyes had gone cold again, expression hard as he lifted the microphone to his lips, lips that were set in a tight scowl.

"Well," he began with a sardonic smile, voice dripping with venom. "Thanks for that."

Triple H was taken aback by the iciness of the reply, but dared not interrupt, unmoving even as Shawn gently touched the lapels of his jacket. He had known Shawn to get into moods like this, and when he was, Hunter knew well that the Hall of Famer was just as dangerous as the deadly Undertaker, or even the Game himself.

"I mean, here I was...I thought we had a problem. But obviously we don't. Because, like always, Triple H, in his nice suit...Triple H has everything under control. Silly me."

Again, the chilling, off-balancing smile.

"You know, last year, it _hurt_ me. It hurt me more than you could _imagine_ for me to have to look you in the eyes and tell you that you couldn't get the job done. And then I sat down at Wrestlemania, and I watched you go out there, and completely dominate the Undertaker. I watched you go out there, and show the world why you're the Game, why you're the Cerebral Assassin. I watched you go out there and beat the Undertaker nearly within an inch of his life.

"And then you lost. And I was right."

Now Hunter's eyes narrowed. Where the hell, he wondered, was Shawn going with all this? Did he call him out just to berate him in front of the world?

"This year," the Heartbreak Kid continued, "At Wrestlemania, Hell in a Cell, I _know_ who's going to win. And I'll be right. Again."

Triple H glared at Shawn as he simply turned to leave. Though he managed to keep his expression neutral, inside his mind was going a mile a minute.

'What the hell does he mean by that? Does he think that I'm going to lose again? Dammit, Shawn, if I'm fighting for _you_, I can't lose! _Don't you know that by now_?'

However, Hunter didn't have long to wonder and feel hurt, because just as he was climbing through the ropes to leave the ring, Shawn rounded on him once again, feigning surprise, as though he had forgotten to explain something.

"I'm sorry...The reason I _know_ that, is because I've been made the Special Guest Referee."

With a pat on his best friend's shoulder, Shawn Michaels simply turned and left the ring, never once looking back.

Hunter, standing silently in the ring, felt the weight that had lifted before return tenfold, brown eyes glazing over with a combination of anger, betrayal, and despair.

The burden of the future of the company, all the resistance to the madness he had been caught up in...none of that even entered Hunter's mind as only one thought played over and over again in his head, drawing him inexorably into the endless spiral of destruction that had threatened, no, was _going to_ bring about the end of an Era:

His best friend had just turned on him.

* * *

><p><em>This storyline is seriously killing me. Now Shawn's the Special Guest Ref? How is this madness going to end? I have such a bad feeling about it all...<em>

_I guess we'll have to wait and see... (anxious)  
><em>

_Oh, and, hey! Guess who's going to RAW in a couple of weeks! (excited) I swear, if those three are there, I'm gonna just cry on principle, lol.  
><em>

_Until then..._

_Review? :)_


	7. Chapter 7

"Shawn, what is it you want me to say?"

Though some would think it a rhetorical question, the Undertaker knew that Shawn Michaels understood that he was being completely serious.

What was it the Heartbreak Kid was after?

Shawn had come out here, bold and brash as always, and talked about respect, about making history, about having the guts to talk to a man to his face rather than behind his back...The Undertaker knew all of this. He _got_ it. No one in the WWE knew better than him the ins and outs of challenging a man, of respect someone enough to call them out to their face. As far as he was concerned, he did what he had to do to get Triple H to accept his challenge.

So what in the hell was Shawn Michaels problem?

"What do you want me to say? That you're a...failure? A loser? Or is it that you couldn't get the job done?"

The Undertaker was right in Shawn's face, but he knew the smaller man would not be intimidated so easily.

Of course, he wasn't _trying_ to intimidate the Heartbreak Kid. At least, not yet.

No, he was trying to talk some damn sense into the man; the same man who would be the referee for his match against Hunter.

"I think you need to stop and think," the Deadman continued. "Are you repeating my words, or maybe, just _maybe_, you're repeating the words chosen _for_ me...by your good friend Triple H."

It wasn't much, but he saw Shawn bite his lip at the harsh accusation, saw the doubt flicker in those ever-defiant blue eyes.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

"Whatever the case may be," he explained, pacing in a circle around Shawn, noting with a bit of pleasure that the world-wise Heartbreaker didn't take his eyes off him for a second, even turning his entire body in order to follow his movement. "You need to let all of your...little..._insecurities_—"

Shawn had heard enough.

"What? My..._My_ insecurities?" HBK interrupted, a sardonic smile playing on his lips even though he was angry. "My insecurities?"

Now _he_ was the one circling the Deadman. Now _he_ was the one being watched closely, like a wolf waiting to pounce on his prey the moment it looked away.

"I got news for ya: _You're_ the one who asked for this match! I mean...Are you kidding me? You practically _begged_ for this match!"

The Deadman winced ever-so-slightly at that, still not letting Shawn out of his range of vision. Even though he was smaller than him, even though he knew had had every advantage over Shawn...He couldn't make a move to shut him up.

Because, really, Shawn was just telling the truth, just like he always did.

"That's why last week, I looked at Hunter, and I told him that I _know_ who's going to win."

The Undertaker stared at Shawn for a moment before turning away, biting his lower lip, trying to again regain his composure. As he should have expected, Shawn had rattled him. Shaken him to his core with just a few razor-edged words.

'The bastard always did have a way of getting under my skin,' he thought bitterly, inhaling deeply.

'But I'm going to get under his now too.'

"You know, Shawn," the Undertaker began, voice unusually soft. "So it is. But I think you should know: Whatever happens at Wrestlemania, whether I win, or I should happen to lose, I'm prepared to accept the outcome.

"But what I'm _not_ prepared to accept, is _you_ sticking your ego in this. Our two matches at Wrestlemania...The match last year with Triple H...It's _all_ been destiny. And on April 1st, that destiny will happen. It will be the end of an Era."

He stared hard into Shawn's eyes; he had a point that he needed to get across to the Heartbreak Kid, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to make him understand.

"You see, what _can't_ happen, win or lose, is for the outcome to not be...pure. And if the outcome _isn't_ pure...I promise you, there will be Hell to pay."

The weight of the threat, the heaviness of the deadly promise was indeed not lost on Shawn.

But he wasn't going to let it get to him. Not after all he's been through.

Because Shawn Michaels knew how to make threats too.

"You know something," Shawn began calmly, not backing down. "You call all this destiny. I look at is as..._irony_." A slow smile came to the Heartbreak Kid's face, and the Undertaker's green eyes narrowed.

"Isn't it ironic," the Showstopper continued, blue eyes dancing with laughter. "That the guy whose career _you_ ended...could quite possibly be the guy who counts your shoulders to the mat? Isn't it _ironic _that I'm the guy who could possibly turn _you_ into a loser, turn _you_ into a failure, and show you that _you_ couldn't get it done?

"Isn't it _ironic_, that I could still be the guy to possibly end the Streak?"

The Undertaker stared straight ahead, past Shawn, past his wicked smile, past the unsettling words. He knew in his heart that Shawn was absolutely right.

After all this time...Shawn Michaels might actually make due on his promise to end the his Streak after all.

A part of the Undertaker wondered if this had somehow all been a part of the Heartbreak Kid's plan...If somehow the man planned this all from the start, as impossible as it all seemed. Surely, things seemed to be falling in place in _his_ favor, rather than either of the two competitors in the actual match!

Still smiling, Shawn started to walk past the Undertaker, a happy spring in his step.

But the Undertaker wasn't letting him go so easily.

The Deadman suddenly and unexpectedly gripped the smaller man's arm nearest him, startling him out of his smug mood and stopping him in his tracks.

'Damned if I let him walk out of here like that.'

The Undertaker turned only slightly, eyes hidden in the shadow of his hood as he looked down at Shawn Michaels. Was that a hint of fear in those defiant blue eyes?

"I _will_ beat Triple H in the Cell," he growled, grip tightening. "The Streak _will_ continue. And I _will_ officially end an Era."

And now the Undertaker roughly pulled Shawn's smaller frame closer to him, their faces so close that he could see the beginnings of panic in the Heartbreak Kid's expression as he towered over him. After all, he knew, Shawn could not have forgotten the very first time he'd pissed the Undertaker off, so long ago.

In fact, many of the scars from that time would _never_ heal.

"But if you _don't_ do the right thing," he threatened, voice low and eyes burning as he leaned in ever closer with each word.

"I will officially. End. _You_."

Shawn stared, frozen as he looked up into the Undertaker's eyes, again feeling the weight of the threat, the palpable menace coming from the large, dark man in front of him.

Almost instinctively, he pulled away wildly, taking several steps away from the dangerous man in black, heart pounding in his chest.

They stared at one another for a long, tense moment. Shawn could see his death in that stare.

But the stubborn Heartbreak Kid still refused to be intimidated. He absolutely _refused_ to be afraid.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he inhaled, and let the tension leave his stance. He took a few casual steps towards the Undertaker, stood in front of him, and, of all things, gave him a consoling pat on the arm.

Just as Triple H had done when he had first refused the Deadman's challenge.

The irony and significance of the demeaning gesture was not lost on the Undertaker, and for a brief moment, as he turned to watch Shawn Michaels leave the ring, he wondered if he hadn't just made a fatal mistake in threatening the Heartbreak Kid.

Almost as if to confirm the unsettling thought, the moment Shawn turned back to look at him was the same moment that Hunter emerged from the backstage area.

Triple H and Shawn locked eyes for a moment, not saying a word to one another. In unison, they looked up the ramp, at the Undertaker, who stood alone in the ring, and then back to one another.

Giving no indication of his thoughts, Shawn simply exited the arena.

But, as Hunter stood alone on the stage, the Undertaker could very well make out the look on his face, the confidence that now danced in his brown eyes, the slow smile that came to his face.

Maybe his friend hadn't betrayed him after all.

Renewed in hope, Hunter Hearst Helmsley gave the Undertaker the classic DX gesture, in no uncertain terms telling the Deadman to suck it.

Though the Undertaker snarled at the crotch chop, the one green eye that showed under the Deadman's dark hood reflected only worry and trepidation.

His fate, Triple H's fate...All of it was in Shawn Michaels hands.

It was not a comforting reality.

* * *

><p><em>I'm loving this whole storyline so much! I have no idea how things are going to turn out...What a rare and unsettling feeling...<em>

_Review? :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey everyone! So...RAW was amazing! I saw almost all of my Musi's real-life counterparts! (happy sigh) I did see Shawn...My first crush, my first hero...There are no words. And Hunter is so awesome...Kane too..._

_And, I have to say, the Undertaker doesn't get a lot of credit sometimes, but the man is exceptionally beautiful! Powerful and imposing and beautiful..._

_When those three were in the ring together, I was literally shaking.  
><em>

_Anyway, I've had a hard time coming back to reality after that (I've also gained some new Muses!), so bear with me while I calm the heck down, haha!_

_Onto the story!_

* * *

><p>Shawn Michaels watched the Undertaker come out to the ring with an unreadable expression on his handsome features. Though he had hoped to at least finish his sentence, the Heartbreak Kid could not say that he wasn't pleased at the speedy appearance of the Phenom, smirking as the pale man climbed into the ring.<p>

As far as he was concerned, it was about time that both the Undertaker and Triple H acknowledge _exactly_ who was running the show around here.

Though the Deadman's heavy threat still resonated in Shawn's mind, the smaller, golden-haired man didn't even hesitate a moment before getting into the Reaper's face.

"Look," HBK began before the Undertaker's entrance music even had stopped playing, anger already building. "Before you even start-"

"Shawn, Shawn," the Undertaker interrupted in an unusually calm voice, placing a hand out in front of him to silence the fiery blond. "You did enough talking last week. Right now, it would be in your best interest...to shut up and listen."

He fixed the Heartbreak Kid with a side-long glare, daring him to speak.

Shawn looked down, mouth set in a tight frown, more than a little taken aback by the harsh command; eventually, however, he looked again into the Undertaker's green eyes and nodded once.

He would let the Deadman have his say.

"I've already told you," 'Taker began, still staring hard at Shawn, "That this match has to remain...pure. So before you and your buddy start making plans to-"

At perhaps the best, or worst, possible timing, Triple H's music hit, cutting off the Undertaker before he could even complete his thought.

The Deadman clenched his fist, expression tense and frustrated as he looked at Shawn, who gazed back at him with raised eyebrows, and blue orbs dancing with something near laughter.

'This DX shit again,' the Undertaker thought with a scowl, turning to face his soon-to-be opponent.

Tonight, Hunter's smirk from last week was absent, replaced by a hard, determined stare.

He made his way to the ring, never once taking his eyes of the Undertaker, off his dangerous foe.

However, when he entered the ring, he stood very, very near to Shawn Michaels.

The Undertaker looked between the two men, found himself staring into one fierce set of brown eyes, and one pair of cold blue ones, and a sense of resignation almost overcame him.

The bond Triple H and Shawn Michaels shared had been a bane to him in the past; without a doubt, it would factor in, and possibly even _decide_ the match in the near future.

Against those two, what chance did he really have?

Shawn looked between the two men, saw the scowl on Hunter's face and the almost accepting nod of the Undertaker. He almost smiled.

Almost. Because Hunter's next words took the grin right from his face.

"You need to stop worrying about him," Triple H said matter-of-factly, pointing at Shawn, not even making eye-contact with him. "Because as much as Shawn's ego wants this to be about him..."

And now he turned, to look his best friend of almost 20 years dead in the eyes.

"_It's not._"

Shawn's blue eyes narrowed, as he took a menacing step towards Hunter, who wasn't backing down either.

Instead, he simply turned to the Undertaker, the man _he_ had to worry about.

"It's about me and you," he continued, taking a few slow steps towards the Deadman. "It's always been about me and you. Like you said, it's our destiny to do this. Two parallel, legendary careers running side by side, connected by one thing."

For a moment, the same thought ran through the minds of the three men in the ring. There was, indeed, one thing that connected the Undertaker and Triple H; one thing that made this match about so much more than a win or loss; one thing that made this about destiny.

One _person_.

But Hunter knew that the Undertaker, and Shawn, who was silent at his side, understood this, so he went with the unexpected answer.

"The most demonic structure in WWE history: Hell in a Cell. There have been 24, just 24 Hell in a Cell matches since the beginning. You and I...We've been in _19_ of them.

"It's not a coincidence.

"It's not a coincidence that the match that started off as the Devil's Playground became my proving ground. It's where I learned that if it didn't kill me, it made me stronger. It's where I learned how to push the limits of human endurance. It's where I learned what it takes to end another man's career!" He was right in front of the Undertaker now, eyes locked unblinkingly with the Deadman's.

"It's where I thrive. It's where I excel. All those matches...all of them...everything I've been through, have been for one moment: April 1st, Wrestlemania. Hell in a Cell."

Behind Triple H, Shawn couldn't keep a small smile from coming to his face. He had every confidence in his best friend's ability; he knew that the blond man in front of him was telling the truth about everything he had just claimed.

He knew that, when the match happened, the Undertaker was going to go through a Hell of the likes that he'd never seen, even in his wildest nightmares. In fact, even now, he could almost imagine the pain, the _suffering_ the Undertaker had coming.

For Shawn, Hunter's speech was nothing short of sadistically _pleasing_.

Hunter couldn't see Shawn's wicked smirk, but the Undertaker sure as hell could.

"The whole world is going to see the end of an era," Triple H continued, nodding as though reassuring himself in his own decision, getting back in the Undertaker's face.

"Yours."

The Game and the Deadman again locked silent stares. The tension between them, the importance of the upcoming match, the genuine sense of destiny and fulfillment was palpable to everyone in the arena.

"And don't worry," Hunter added almost flippantly. "I know exactly what it is going to take inside that Hell to finish the job—"

"Do you?" the Undertaker interrupted suddenly, green eyes blazing, voice dropping to a low growl. "Are you sure? Your mind...your body, your soul..." He turned his head to the side slightly, expression sharpening as his voice took on a sinister edge.

"Your career," the Deadman growled, coming ever closer to Hunter, who was now as silent as Shawn. "Your wife, your kids...all this?" He almost smiled, voice slipping into a more casual nuance.

"Even your life?

"Are you willing to put it _all_ on the line?"

Hunter stared into the Undertaker eyes, eyes that burned near the edge of madness. The Phenom's words had cut him, and cut him deeply; the thought of losing his family was something he had never wanted to consider...

And yet, the Undertaker was asking, demanding it of him. Forcing him to risk all that was precious to him in his life.

'No, not everything,' Hunter thought, for the first time looking back at Shawn. 'Not everything.'

In that moment, Triple H made a decision, one that he knew he might regret for the rest of his life...but one that he was absolutely certain was right.

"If it means giving you the end that you so richly deserve...then I am" He stood right in front of the Undertaker again, their faces now not more than a few inches apart.

"And. I. Will."

The Undertaker seemed to nod, looking down at the blond man with a mixture of respect and disdain.

'Just like Shawn,' he thought, starting to back away and out of the ring. 'His attitude is just like Shawn.'

Hunter was convinced that the Hell in a Cell was his proving ground; that, once and for all, he could give the Undertaker the 'end' he had earned for bringing about the end of his best friend. Whatever the risks were, Triple H was more than willing to accept them.

However, as he climbed out of the ring, the Undertaker wasn't thinking about Hell in a Cell; about how many he'd been in; about how much torture he and Hunter had put their bodies through to prove their toughness; about how much they were going to put _each other _through in just a few short days.

No. He was still thinking about destiny. About why this match was their fate. Because of that real one thing that bound the Game and the Undertaker together for all eternity.

_Because of that one person._

He turned around suddenly; once again, Shawn and Triple H were side by side, the backs of their hands even brushing against one another, they were so close.

The Undertaker looked between the two men, gaze at last settling on his opponent.

Against DX, he knew he could not win.

However.

"You remember," he asked Hunter, "When I said that Shawn is better than you?"

The question hung like a scythe in the air, heavier than lead.

Hunter could feel his own heart pounding in his chest, could see Shawn's sudden interest and nervousness out of the corner of his eye as pure rage threatened to cloud his vision and drown out the world.

In fact, he all but knew where the Deadman was going with this as he got right in Triple H's face, a cold smile ghosting on his lips the Phenom spoke:

"He is."

The Undertaker left the ring at that, looking back only once to see the self-satisfied smile on Shawn's Michaels face, and the bitter anger on Triple H's.

Against DX he may not have a chance; but against Shawn he had already won, and against Hunter he had already been victorious.

Tonight, he was giving himself more than a chance.

The Heartbreak Kid, for his part, watched the Deadman go, nearly bursting into a wide smile. He _knew_ what the Undertaker was up to; still that didn't make his words any less satisfying.

'If he's trying to win me over,' he thought, nearly laughing aloud, 'He's doing a dang fine job of it.'

Shawn realized, all at once, that Hunter was staring at him, was _scowling_ at him from his side. His own grin faded as he looked into injured, angry brown eyes, and he knew deep down that the Undertaker's words were as much to win Shawn as they were to hurt Hunter.

For a full moment, looking into his friend's hurting eyes, Shawn did legitimately feel bad.

However, the moment Hunter looked away, looked back at the exiting Undertaker, Shawn could feel his smile return.

'It's not about me, huh?' he thought mockingly, casting a sly look at his best friend, smirk widening.

As far as Shawn Michaels was concerned, Hunter Hearst Helmsley would do well to remember, as the Undertaker did, that in the end, it was _all_ about Shawn Michaels.

* * *

><p><em>Somehow, Shawn is being SUCH a heel, haha!<em>

_Review? :)_


	9. Chapter 9

It was almost as if, at the sound of the bell, the spell was broken.

Nearly in tears, the Undertaker rolled away slowly, achingly, from Triple H's limp, unconscious body. The loud buzzing in his head, the voice that had driven him to near madness for an full year ...

Gone.

Head clear and thoughts free, the thirst for vengeance and assurance was gone.

His mind had fallen silent the moment he had looked down at Hunter's beaten, bruised and battered body.

The cost of his revenge, for the first time since it had consumed him, hit the Undertaker full force like a sledgehammer to the gut.

_Something has just been lost._

_ I am a fool._

Overwhelmed, he shut his green eyes tightly as he tried to pull himself up with the help of the ropes. He was hurt badly, perhaps as badly as last year, but he was determined to pull himself to his feet this time. The match had already been won; now came the final test.

_Will I be able to stand?_

A shadow suddenly covered him, and he knew exactly who it was. Turning slowly, the Undertaker rolled onto his back, still unable to rise to his feet, and looked up.

Shawn Michaels was crying, blue eyes wet with still-flowing tears, face streaked by their tracks.

The Undertaker felt his heart shattering at the sight.

Shawn had been crying pretty much throughout the whole match, his tears and pleas only growing in intensity as the two men became more and more brutal towards each other. Focused as they had been on victory, both the Undertaker _and_ Triple H had injured Shawn.

In more ways than one.

The immense cost had hit him during the match, as he watched the two men beat the living hell out of one another. On more than one occasion, his own emotions had overtaken him; more than once he had to look away from the carnage.

'This is madness,' he realized the moment he had to literally _beg_ Hunter to stop, to put down the steel stairs, the chair, the sledgehammer.

_We've lost our minds._

The Heartbreak Kid looked down at the Undertaker, and saw tears standing in the Deadman's eyes as well, just on the verge of falling. A single thought passed between the two men as they stared at one another; a truth that had been told to them, that they had refused to believe before, but now could not deny.

_ Hunter was right._

Shawn extended his hand, and, to his surprise, the Undertaker took it without question.

The Deadman was going to walk out of the arena tonight...But he wasn't going to be alone. This they had _both_ determined as soon as the match ended.

As he pulled the larger man up, he was unsurprised to find himself suddenly in a tired, tight, desperate embrace. In fact, he had expected it, because he, too, _needed_ it.

"He was right," the Undertaker was whispering as he buried his face in Shawn's shoulder, in his golden-brown hair. "He was right. About all of it. He knew..."

HBK felt the warm tears against his shoulder and ran a hand comfortingly along the Undertaker's newly-shaven head.

"I know," he whispered in answer, feeling the same pain but refusing to let it overtake him, even managing to smile through his tears. "I know."

The two men stood silently for a long moment, the Undertaker grateful to Shawn for shielding his tears from the rest of the world, and Shawn grateful for the Undertaker's unsteady embrace, as it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing on the floor and dissolving into sobs.

Together they turned towards Hunter, who was still lying as quiet as death on the ring floor.

Though he had been against this madness from the start, Hunter had been the one to pay the heaviest price. He had known it in the beginning; and now, at the end, the two men he had tried to save knew it too.

Shawn Michaels walked over to his friend, his best friend, kneeling by him and touching his face gently.

"I'm sorry," he said brokenly, voice barely above a whisper. "We're sorry."

The Undertaker, after several moments of reflection, joined Shawn, and they stood over the Game together.

* * *

><p>As the fog cleared, the first thing Hunter felt was a rush of nearly overwhelming pain. He remembered, all at once, the match, the damaged he'd both dealt and taken, and the fact that he had <em>lost<em>.

The second thing he felt, in sharp contrast, was a pair of hands...No, _two_ pairs of hands. Two people were holding him, trying to help him up off the floor.

'Shit...Did the EMTs have to come get me?' he wondered, still unable to fully open his eyes because of the pounding agony in his head. Slowly, slowly, he felt himself lifted to his feet.

He realized with a start that Shawn was on his right side, as he felt the brush of long hair against his shoulder, smelled that oh-so-familiar shampoo that the Heartbreak Kid used.

"Shawn," he muttered, leaning against his best friend, hoping that the smaller man could support his weight, because he surely couldn't stand on his own two feet and leave the ring.

The irony of it all was killing him.

Killing him, until he realized, honey-brown eyes going wide, who it was who supported his left side; the other man who was literally carrying him out of the ring.

The Undertaker.

Though the two men remained silent as they helped him walk up the long ramp, Hunter could clearly see the quiet light in their eyes, the pained look on their faces.

The price they _both_ paid in that Cell...They now understood why the COO of the WWE had been so reluctant, why Triple H had done everything in his power to prevent this tragedy from happening in the first place.

They knew, with the conclusion of the match, that the End of the Era meant the end for them. _All three of them_. Ultimately, what had been at stake wasn't pride, or certainty, or even revenge and immortality.

_We were risking losing each other forever._

Hunter could see that the madness that had possessed them all was completely gone.

Despite his own bloody, blurred vision, Triple H couldn't help but smile.

He felt himself sinking lower as they reached the top of the ramp, and Shawn struggled to hold him up. The Undertaker, himself struggling to walk, covered in blood and bruises, also paused to catch his breath. Hunter looked between the two men, both holding him, supporting him together as best they could.

Tears gathered in his eyes, and he didn't even bother to hold them back.

No more questioning, no more animosity, no more fear, and no more madness.

They were walking out of that arena, and they were going to do it together.

Years and years ago, after the very first Hell in a Cell match, Shawn was the one who had been carried out of the ring by Hunter, battered and bloody beyond all reason, while the Undertaker lay unconscious, but victorious, in the ring.

This time, however, in what could be the last match for each man, they exited as they always should have.

_Together._

Maybe, just maybe...The cost had been worth it after all.

Hunter felt a tug on his arm; a welcome, familiar tug, so different from the violent, angry pull that had been inflicted on him weeks before. As he had done so many times over so many years, he leaned into Shawn's body, hugging the Heartbreak Kid warmly.

However, he noticed that Shawn was also tugging on the Undertaker's arm as well, drawing the normally-reluctant man into his embrace too. Hunter followed suit; though the Deadman had put him through Hell...He was a much a part of this as DX was.

The bond that they had shared in the past, shared even now, and will share for the rest of their lives, could never, ever be broken. _That_ was what they had so foolishly risked in this match; it was everything they had to lose, and more.

And yet, somehow...it had survived. _They_ had survived.

As the three legends hugged on the stage, a thousands thoughts were running through each of their minds, their bodies battered beyond normal human endurance, their hearts torn in more directions than they could make sense of.

In the chaos of it all, however, one thing was clear to them, one thing they knew they'd be able to depend on for the rest of their lives:

Even if the Era was ending, they would always have each other.

_I may have lost my mind...but I'm glad I didn't lose you._

* * *

><p><em>There are no words to capture what those three men did...Truly masters of their art, and three of the greatest wrestlers of all time. Love to them all, and if this was truly their last time...It was one hell of a goodbye. <em>

_This story is dedicated to Shawn Michaels, Triple H, and the Undertaker. Thank you, Legends._

_Review?  
><em>


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